


Higanbanas

by Paech



Series: marylonde family shenanigans [7]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Earth C (Homestuck), F/F, Human/Troll Hybrids, I'm not done making rose and kanaya suffer from motherhood 2, Motherhood, Postpartum Depression, and vice versa, hospital drama, we stan rose's only love for the alien vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:54:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21593407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paech/pseuds/Paech
Summary: Your name is Kanaya Maryam and, just fifteen minutes ago, you've became a mother to Earth C's first healthiest human-troll hybrid.
Relationships: Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam
Series: marylonde family shenanigans [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1115205
Kudos: 20





	Higanbanas

Your name is Kanaya Maryam and, just fifteen minutes ago, you've became a mother to Earth C's first healthiest human-troll hybrid. 

It was unexpected, completely and six months early, for the bairn to arrive at such a time during the last few legs of warm summer. You were thoroughly busy with sewing clothes for your upcoming child, then your palmhusk rings so sudden that you jump and slice your thumb with your sewing needle. You can't recall the last time you used your rainbow drinker prowess to sprint so quickly than when you scampered to the hospital, the receptionist at the head of the desk not assisting your poor, nerve wracking situation one bit after you had been thrown out of the room Rose was in. (Of course, bursting in there with your chainsaw fully showcased when Rose's pained noises jumped out of the room.)

You swear, you were nearing to popping a vessel on the spot before a worker quickly fetched you.

Rose had already taken a glimpse at the baby, as of course, but the nurse that was escorting you down the cool halls reported quite casually that your wife didn't seem to muster the capability of holding her newborn or feeding; she flicked off your worry hastily, however, detailing of your baby requiring to be hooked up with concerning wires that you didn't bother learning of as the nurse listed them off and let you inside the nursery. 

Your jade green eyes wandered and bounced over the room with such worry traced in its wake, your lip bruising just a tad from how rough you dig your fangs in them. 

Your sight starts dragging along the row of machines, a gnawing feeling of emptiness emitting from the quiet room. You couldn't exactly pinpoint the emotions the block invoked, just only that they weren't quite positive ones. You trail towards a clear, small box shaped stationery, in which the most tiny figure you'd ever laid your eyes on is flailing and shifting inside. 

Your eyes widen and your steps halt, your blood running cold as a prolong buzzing noise stains your ears momentarily. 

Your ears start swiveling slightly down, your claws creating indents on your usually rough skin. You wonder how badly your lip is punctured from your honed fangs. 

"Have you washed your hands yet?" she asks, to which you nod responsively and she gives a nod back. 

When the nurse begins to slip on elastic gloves and cautiously reaches in to retrieve the sobbing light gray mess, your arms go limp, knees unable to maneuver forward. 

A soft cry blares into your ear, enacting the nurse to gently cradle the new entity in her arms with such zeroed in focus, it makes you feel self conscious. Your arms ache to hold the hybrid baby - your daughter - but strangely you also feel the urge to take a step back at the same time. Your eyes meander on the display, mouth slightly ajar with - a look of amazement? Shock? Realization drowning you and overfilling your lungs to the point of pale green streaks quibbling at the corner of your eyes?

But then the nurse shoots her head up at you, startling you vastly because she begins extending the baby towards you. 

You take a moment or three; or four, everything is a blank in your mind and nothing feels absolutely real and that you're actually here - until the nurse organizes your arms into a cradling position and finally sets your baby into your arms. 

Your breath abruptly got caught in your throat, it feels impossible to pump it out, because you feel if you do, something ludicrous might happen to the baby. You're severely afraid she'll shatter if you even do a little movement to feel comfortable.

"She's very fragile," the nurse starts, only adding an extra pressure on to your situation with that simple statement. You swallow. 

"We'll need to run a few blood tests on her, just to see if everything is alright with her health and so on." She continues, making you quirk a curiously concerned brow. 

"Tests?"

She nods seamlessly. "Just a few, for her premature state and mixed species genetics, but granted she seems fine and completely okay with the former. We're more concerned about her, uh, heritage. Hybrids aren't very common on Earth C."

You nod, then flicker your gaze back to your newborn child. She seemed calm at the moment, breathing in softly and rhythmically, her little light gray chubby hands twitching involuntarily. You feel your eyes become glazed, completely entranced by the small creature snugged in your arms. Your fingers brush lightly against her thick, fuzzy black hair; you find it odd how only the base of the hair is thick enough to put up into a little hairdo, but the rest of her hair seemed so paper-thin and wispy, enough to see her scalp. Grubs usually came out with their hair already intact, albeit wet and slimy from the yolk. 

A hand suddenly begins to slide itself under your arms, attempting to get ahold of the baby - to which you swiftly pull back defensively, hissing ear piercingly at the threat trying to purloin your baby, the animalistic sound bouncing off the cold beige walls. 

Your hiss gets abruptly stuck in your throat when your eyes register to the nurse, mouth thinning in an embarrassed snap, your fangs almost puncturing your bottom lip. 

"Oh - oh my god, I am - I'm so sorry, I didn't, er, I think my maternal jade instincts are, um, flaring up, I didn't mean to display such a hostile attitude, I usually, uh, never do that." You try hastily apologizing, cautiously handing your baby to the startled and wide eyed nurse. She gradually welcomes the baby back into her arms, making steady motions before leading you out of the nursery with a promise of seeing her again once they get along with another important checkup.

As soon as the door softly clicks behind you, you stand alone in the hall, blank expression embedded onto your face; whether caused by faltering to process just exactly what has unfolded today with a new life breathing gently into the air, or where you even were. You feel spaced out, but enclosed, tightly, lasting for what felt like already prolonged minutes for someone just standing in the same place.

Heels clacking against the clean floors of the hospital registers your mind back to Earth C, quickly beginning to leave your lingering spot before the residents wandering the building start insistently questioning you. 

You don't know where you're heading, you think your legs are temporarily having a mind of its own and guiding you where your heart desires that you yourself would be immobile to. 

And that desire, apparently, is a blood bank room with an accidental creaked open door for any malicious visitor to creep into.

But you are absolutely free of any said intent - you are a respectful and polite young lady that wouldn't dream of causing complications to professional workers and their patient's donated blood, definitely not! But then again, Rose had been your only blood source since the meteor days, and after you had gotten her pregnant incidentally, you were selflessly starved for torturing months with only cranberry juice to suffice because your wife needed every bit of her energy and delicious crimson blood to keep nurturing your guys' baby. Not even a pinch was comfortable enough for you; you wanted Rose's health to be untampered with and free of risks with the baby.

You could've asked Karkat for an ounce, him being your second reliable source when Rose would fall ill on the meteor and intaking blood from her would only increase her weakened state (and also set you at risk for catching her cold), but your embarrassment to ask after so long from not feeding on him overtook you. 

Of course, you're hesitant to acquire any blood bags from its compartment, your fingers falling prey to your fangs as you chew on them delicately from nerves. Who were you to steal donated blood from ill people who desperately needed it?

It had been so long since even a drop of blood was splattered on your tongue though, the stacked blood bags looking too tantalizing as your surging, almost animalistic need to drink up any droplets hung over your shoulder. 

Gentle voices sounding from the hall apparently triggered your conscious desire however, because you find yourself swiftly nabbing a bag, hiding it beneath your black shirt and escorting yourself the fuck out of there before any doctors could spot you red-handed.

You quickly walk down the hall, trying your hardest to not seem suspicious, rounding the corner and spotting unexpectedly Karkat and Terezi, who appear to be caught up in a conversation that sparks a chortle from Terezi and a frown from Karkat as he presses his palms against a clear glass wall. 

They eventually take notice of you, Karkat immediately signaling you over to them with one hand still pressed into the glass. You walk over to them with a curious brow, once in their bubble, Karkat hastily goes to hug you in a tight embrace that radiated such congrats.

Karkat pulled away, his claws firmly latched onto your forearms and gently guiding you between him and Terezi. You cock your head to the side towards the glass wall they were previously zeroed in on, the frame of your eyes widening at the sight of a familiar baby resting inside the same containment with clear wires tucked into her nose and plentiful machines nearby that made the room appear crowded.

"Fuck, Kanaya, I'm so proud of you for creating this...ungodly light gray shaded monkey, Terezi and I didn't even need to search for any longer because that freak of nature looks uncannily like you." Karkat praises, a rapid nod coming from Terezi behind you. 

"That weird-looking wriggler definitely came from troll loins." 

Your face manifests into a puzzled look. "I don't think it'd be the bestest idea to lick the windows, as clean as the hospital may appear, germs are inevitable to collect." 

Terezi only shrugs, uncaring. You're more mind-boggled at the fact apparently no one has caught her sleazy licking against the frame, considering workers are a bit more like hawks when it comes to prematures. 

You train your gaze back to the window, catching a slightly visible reflection of your tall stature and flecks of green in your gray eyes, soon to be overtaken with the color of your blood, give or take in a year. Your baby rarely moves, you note, only making a silver of twitches that you could easily miss with a blink. Now that you stare at the IVs and other plug-ins in an examination, your bloodpusher crackles at her tiny body getting hooked up to those at only minutes of age.

"Do you know how Rose is doing?" Karkat suddenly inquires, jolting something in your mind and heart instantly. 

"No? I only got briefed with little info about her state," you say, sniffing. "And now that I'm actually thinking about it and on the matter, I find myself very worried for Rose."

Karkat shook his head. "We tried seeing Rose too, we thought you were with her already, but they were really adamant about 'giving Rose her deserved space' or some egoistical shit." 

You pout with noticeable displeased creases on your face; you're concerned and ruffled for Rose more than ever now. Your wife only gave birth mere minutes ago, now leaving you with your baby entangled with wires and machines, then no whereabouts about your wife's status. You've read about mothers who've died shortly after birth before. You pray beyond Earth C's realm that this isn't the case. 

Karkat notices your nettled look on a whim, why wouldn't he? Both your wife and newborn child are occupied in serious conditions, presenting you with a rushing, undeniable feeling of loneliness that you've always feared since you were a wriggler. 

He pulls you into another tight hug, offering to go to the cafeteria for a much required break, which where Dave was lounging about. You nod, Karkat stabling a hold on your arm as he walked away from the window, Terezi following behind you two with her boasting voice. 

**

You swirl your plastic coal colored spoon in your chicken soup, warm comfortable steam waving around your face. Terezi, Dave, and Karkat cause an uproar across you from the table, a few people idly turning their eyes at you questionably or just plainly, Terezi's purposely loud tone and Karkat's usual irritated booming voice dragging some interest. 

What started this commotion was Karkat's jumbled look as he inquired rather innocently (as much as he can be when it came to human reproduction) about the topic of how you and Rose even managed to create a grub. Half grub, half human baby. Whatever, one or the other. Honestly, you didn't really know how to explain this thoroughly to him; humans were still confusing to you. 

Dave, though, with his ever needed commentary, patted his shoulder, in a guardian act, as if Karkat was merely just his little wriggler and it was finally the appropriate time to tell him where grubs came from. 

You didn't catch most of it (you know how it happens anyway) but it was short, because you know Karkat well enough that he'd refuse to listen how grossly horrifying human reproduction was. 

Just '

well you see karkat one night after an elegant tea drinking and book reading session rose and kanaya got a lil lusty while they were sharing prim praises or whatever the fuck and decided to have some grownup time in their room, then kanaya slipped her baby bullet into roses magazine and wait where you going no skipping sex ed

' and Karkat stomped off. You're more surprised Dave didn't start off with the generic phrase-for-wrigglers ' _when a woman and a troll love each other very much.'_

You don't finish your soup; you have no time, really, not when a nurse came speed walking to your table and told you Rose requested you to be in her room. 

You immediately sprint down the halls, skimming the open doors with your dress hem flowing above the floor. 

A breath gets caught in your throat when you finally glimpse at the woman you've been looking for. The room is dark, and Rose seems to be fast asleep, wrapped up in her thin pale brown blankets. 

When you take a step inside, Rose shuffles in her garner, twisting her head back with low lavender eyes; that is, until you flash on your light and see her brightened up face and glowing eyes.

"Kanaya.." she wastes no time trying to beckon you over, you quickly oblige as she scoots back to make room. 

As soon as you jump in the garner and settle in, Rose buries her face into your chest, her arms slithering around your frame and tightening hard. You give her a kiss to her forehead, soft and warm, and she responds by pressing her face more into the center of your chest. 

You curl your arms around her in turn, peppering kisses over the line of her hair. Without vocalizing it herself, Rose is very transparent about her need for you; which doesn't happen often. Before you two accidentally roped yourselves into pregnancy, Rose was never the type to thrust herself into you and nestle her nose in your shirt, at least not before attempting to suggest cuddling during the lively hours of the day like as if trying to pass it off as your conjured idea. 

Her voice would squeak, her facial muscles trying to strain themselves in a serious mannered look as her lavender-purple eyes stared aimlessly at you with mushed fondness. 

Now, though, Rose didn't want to delay and simply just had no time for their usual teasing and shyness. 

You don't blame her, not for a second. You couldn't paint in your mind of what Rose has been through today; from what you read of the process humans endure to bring in their young into the world, you felt nauseated and overwhelmingly concerned for Rose's well being. 

Especially with you barely being present at her side, it must've been a hard, frightening moment to feel as if you were alone throughout the excruciating pain. You're here for her now, though, and your arms are akin to anchors at this point. 

"Kanaya.." Rose croaks again, slicing through the thick silence in the hospital room and flickering her glistening eyes at you. 

You catch her nude pink lips, shushing lightly against them before placing another pampering kiss to her nose. 

"I'm here, I'm here," you murmur, squeezing her in demonstration of this being reality. "I'm not going anywhere, Rose."

Rose sunk her face into the crook of your neck, feeling a small but heavy wisp of her breath on your skin. You hang onto each other like something was bound to rip you two apart, silence overfilling the room and causing a torrent of drowsiness to hit you with force. You hear Rose's breathing fall into a pattern that you can decipher as her passed out, so you follow suit and slide your eyes shut. 

You peel your eyes open after a shake of your shoulders abruptly wakes you, using a balled up fist to rub at your tired eyes. You register in your surroundings, first finding that Rose is still fast asleep and latched onto you. 

You cock your head back, peering at similar troll sclera though with tinge of red, unlike your green ones.

"Hey," he says lowly, as to not wake Rose. "They were finally able to let visitors in, after an irritating hour or so with the so-called metaphorically cool kids."

An hour? You've been sleeping for that long? 

"Oh." you respond with a hum. 

"Where's your grub?" 

You straighten yourself up at this, your mouth gaping slightly as you try to search for an answer; until you realize you absolutely have no idea where your daughter is or how she is. 

"I - um, I don't know where exactly but..." you stumble, scratching at the underside of your chin. 

Karkat thins his lips and nods, running a hand through his messy hair. 

"Have you decided on a name yet? Like, on a traditional troll name or...human? I don't know what the fuck you're gonna settle on since she's half of both, and I'm presuming Rose would rather hand pick-it than let some lusus attempt to with a gross, throaty growl?" Karkat rests a bit of his weight on the railings, before spotting a chair and dragging it over. 

"Well, Rose and I weren't planning to hand her off to a lusus, so you're correct, though I suppose you can try." You joke, emitting a tiny chuckle. Karkat ponders this with a sharp nail pressed under his lip, bushy brows crinkled. 

"There's not much I can think of that'd fit as a permanent name," Karkat admits. "Guess I'm as shitty at naming a kid as much as caring one."

You coo at him and give him a supportive pat. "Karkat, I think it'd be in your best advance, that as someone who works and was born for maternal duties, you'd make quite an excellent guardian." 

This gets Karkat to smile a little, passing you a shared happy feeling. 

"But also, in regards to naming, I was mainly speaking about doing the lusii mechanism, which is giving off a gross, throaty noise." You rebuttal, the smile crossing Karkat's face quickly disappearing. He rolled his slowly dotting red orbs, folding his arms over his chest. 

"You want to name your grub after the sounds of me gagging? Mother of the fucking decade, everyone." Karkat deadpans, making you issue a quiet giggle. 

The term 'mother' still hasn't settled well in your mind, even though it's what your title is now, and there's no way for you to just discharge of it. You never really addressed this to yourself; mostly because you were already chalked up with Rose's emotional habits that changed at every time of day. 

"So..." Karkat drawls, his look softening a bit. Hm? "You're really set on raising your guys' spawn?" 

Oh. That's right; trolls normally didn't take care of their own young. You tried not to dwindle on this, actually, you're worried if you do you'll tread into a panic episode and proceed to enact on the stupidest of things. You desperately want to be there for your wife, for your _child._

You don't even want to imagine the scenario of leaving Rose in the dust and her puffy eyes and large frown overtaking her features, it stings your heart with a cigarette. Your mouth feels dry, you don't if you can respond. 

"I know how bizarre this sort of concept would've been back on Alternia, so I just wanted to-"

Suddenly, the body laid into your side begins stirring, releasing drawn out and groggy murmurs. You tend to her immediately, Karkat closing his mouth and leaning back a little to give you two space. 

"Rose?" You whisper, stroking her face softly. Rose wriggles, her hold on your hip loosening. Her eyes fluttered open, purple gaze drifting up at you. "Rose, are you okay?" You ask frantically, claws hovering over her body like she was a fragile, porcelain doll. 

Rose blinks numerous times, her mouth carefully moving. "I feel....fine, I think. My lower half hurts though."

You settle your hands gently on her torso, making comforting ministrations to relax her muscles. 

Karkat taps your shoulder, signaling to you of his dismal, giving him a nod in return. You listen to the heavy, echoing sounds of his steps, shuffling your body closer to Rose as she slowly pulls herself back to sleep. 

What with the dark room and lack of booming sounds, you can't help but collapse back into the throes of slumber. You haven't mentioned and discussed about the baby yet, you mentally note, your claws resting at the small of her back. Partly because you were waiting for Rose to start, but she doesn't seem to want to talk about it, you presume. You'll ask the staff once you awake again to see if they could wheel in your baby. 

***

Your name is Kanaya Maryam, and for some unfathomable reason, you can't get Rose to look at the baby. 

Your baby is currently nestled in your arms, after two days of practically begging and bugging the hospital staff to let you two have her in your room. You've tried getting Rose to heave her head off from the pillow of the bed, to just glimpse at the baby, but she doesn't generate much energy to rise and only stays silent. You can't stop nibbling your lip at this, you're sick with worry. 

"Rose, please," You whine, holding your baby close to your chest. "You're her other mother, she deserves to interact with you, Rose." 

She doesn't reply, neither gives a little shift to notify you she's at least listening. You kneel at the side she's turned at, making clear of the baby's chubby face and putting on a pout. 

"Rose, she needs you, do you not want to for the very least just hold her?" You inquire, wanting to reach for Rose's arm, though her hold was already vastly occupied with carrying your baby cautiously. 

"Rose?" You try again. 

Nothing. You feel frustrated tears welling up, only worsening when you glance down at your baby. Your baby shifts, her small hand sliding up her face to rub, equally tiny black dull claws that couldn't prick sensitive skin at the ends of her fingers. 

Suddenly, her eyes open weakly, taking you aback by two perfect and beautiful jade orbs behind white sclera. But just as soon as they opened, her eyelids seize and slam back closed. Your eyes are filled with adoration, completely forgetting your former dilemma in favor of admiring the being you had a hand in creating. 

She still had another parent, and you weren't about to sulk like Rose and accidentally ignore her. You haven't the faintest clue of what's wrong with Rose, really, and you're concerned if this is everlasting. 

Rose always had mood swings akin to this when she was pregnant and it always left you in a puzzled, exhausted position; she'd bawl her eyes out, harder than you've ever seen, blabbering about her anxiety of motherhood and if she was honestly sure she wanted to have this baby, keeping her head to her pillow with a wistful expression and noticeable dark bags under her eyes. 

But then, when you walk into the living room the next morning, you'd find her on her laptop shopping for baby clothes and knitting a little purple hat with a green ball perched at the top. It was impossible to pin her feelings, and you doubt it was the pregnancy symptoms causing them. 

For now, though, you'd tuck those issues away in a box and under the bed, later to be open when your baby was carried back into her nursery. You need to feed her, before she began revving up loud cries. 

Your name is Rose Lalonde and you haven't seen your daughter since the day she was pushed from out of your body. No one's permitting you from seeing her, in fact you're really the only one besides your wife whose allowed to hold her. 

For some reason, you don't want to look at her. Maybe it's the entirety of your strength having been whisked away, but you really just don't want to, and neither do you have a validated excuse. 

You have a hard time grasping it though; you're a mother now. A piece of you is cradled in Kanaya's arms, noisily guzzling milk formula from across you. Your child, lightest gray and a small hand hovering over the bottle, her tiny troll ears visible from the small manifested amount of hair she has perched on the top of her head. 

You close your eyes quickly before you make out any other details though, an uncomfortable pang shooting through your chest cavity the more you stared. 

You sincerely hope she doesn't look strikingly similar to you, you'd rather the baby have more of Kanaya's features and added traits. You just hope everything about the baby is like Kanaya, and not you, never like you. 

What sort of positive traits could you pass down to a whole being? You've already doomed the baby just by being related to her, most likely gifting her what every Strilonde carried: a bout of self issues and depression. You couldn't imagine any child doing themselves luck by sharing the Strilonde family genetics, really what a genetic lottery for an overtly grim teenager who secretly pleads for attention by acting as edgeful as can be. 

Kanaya makes up for your side though, you have no doubts traced in your mind Kanaya will be providing her gorgeous looks when the baby is older and her charming, smart attitude. She does more justice by giving her the maiden name 'Maryam' after yours. Honestly, you would've preferred it to be Maryam-Lalonde for the baby, but you both collectively already agreed on hyphenating it as Lalonde-Maryam before the baby even came along. 

Kanaya, quite frankly, is your better half in this. You don't know if you'll be a remotely good mother, or if the child will eventually despise you in later years, like you did. 

You groan softly and squeeze your eyes shut. That's the last thing you'd ever desire, for the baby to grow up to be like _you._ The younger you, the 10 year old Rose who would fuss off her mother when she tried enacting any sort of affection while her labcoat reeked of wrenching alcohol. The very stuffy and emotionally constipated Rose with such a mysterious outlook. 

God, you'd have to apologize to the baby for giving her such a fucked gene line. 

Your head begins to pound and - ow, okay, no more thoughts. You're starting to become nauseated now at the slightest thought of the baby and just anything coherent, so you halt everything prancing in your mind, and bury your face into your pillow then forget what your bairn looks like. 

***

A raspy, ear-achingly loud wail shakes your core and stabs your hearing until you twitch in bed, elevating your entire body off the messy sheets with your palms pressed into them. You feel cold sweat gunning down your chin, experiencing a bit of difficulty of intaking any breaths, your chest growing tight. 

Another wail rings in your ear, your eyes drifting to the source of the sound and gluing to the hospital cradle at the foot of your garner. You only glimpse at two tiny hands swatting in the air, sobs for attention piecing your ears once again when the hands unfurled. This must've been the baby's first time crying, you think. Her sobs sound so raw. 

You scan the room for Kanaya, looking right then left, ending fruitlessly and slumping your shoulders. Where was she? You see she's left her purse here, perched on the chair she was sitting. Maybe she was in the middle of a conversation with the doctors, or tangled up with their visitors. 

But the baby is crying! You weren't sure if you had motherly instincts quite just yet, but the beginnings of it were definitely flaring and alerting to you to go pick up the baby. 

But you don't want to. That, and your legs still felt sore. How long has it been since you went to the bathroom and took a shower? You must stink horribly like one of Dave's dirty socks just lying near the TV. You aren't sure if you're ready to use the bathroom, though, what with paranoia about the stitches now applied to your lower region. 

Dear god, you can't even remember the last time you ate. A headache buzzes in your skull, making you retaliate. 

The baby's cries only worsen, poor thing possibly thinking she was left alone. Perhaps it was time she needed to be escorted back to her nursery. 

But firstly, you won't get anywhere if you don't stand up and at least calm her down. You don't know anything about calming babies, but you suppose since you're her mother she'd stop merely at the sight of you. 

She just needs to hear you. 

Carefully, with a wince, you maneuver off the bed, cold floor sending shocks up your spine as you tread over to the crib, your legs growing weak and like jelly when your purple discs land on something so tiny, something you've never took the time to look at. 

Swallowing dryly, you stare at her with such a plain look. She's only cladded in a diaper and white socks on her feet, tubes connected to her arm and nose but leading nowhere. You notice little black claws as her nails, and the way her black hair bunches at the top of her head before turning into wisps at the sides of her face. You notice she has your sort of face build, causing you to wince apologetically. She already looks vastly identical to your wife, so you suppose she had to have some quarter of Lalonde. The only notes of her human lineage is her form and lack of horns; honestly, you expected her to come out as a grub, but thankfully it wasn't the case. The horns probably would've been a danger hazard for you, but then again grub horns were normally small. 

Her eyes suddenly shift open, surprising you immensely as you look at, for the first time, familiar green orbs. Your heart stops beating in your ear, drinking up everything about the way her eyes look and the white human sclera she carried, before her lids flew shut and her cries soften. 

Oh, right. You push yourself closer to the crib, sealing any more unneeded distance between you and your baby. With one hand gripping the crib strongly, the other gently ran a soothing hand down the small frame of your hybrid's face. Her powerful cries stopped, tiny fingers seizing as you wiped down the clear tears, caressing her troll ears for a moment before going back to rubbing her cheek. 

Are you supposed to say something, so she knows it's you? Or can babies already detect which person was their mother without even opening their eyes or giving a sound. Does she even remember you?

Of course she does! You're her mother and it's only been a few days after she entered this world. You refrain from slapping yourself, instead criticize yourself in your head. 

Your child falls quiet now, but you continue to stroke her face comfortingly, your grip on the crib losing itself and then falling to your side. You breathe in, then exhale out weakly, pushing back her patch of black hair. 

You shift your hand to examine her little ones, a hand curled securely into a fist and the other one, near you, wide open. 

You decide to hover your thumb over it, tenderly pressing down, which your baby reacts by closing tightly around you, causing you to jump in place. She latches on with such vigor, that it's a bit comedic to you you can easily slide your thumb out from her trap. But you don't, opting to keep your thumb there with your other fingers tucked behind her hand. 

You catch a strong urge to lay a kiss to her fingers, but since she's an early born, it might be easy to pass on germs (not to mention the nurse's strictness). 

You like it as it is, anyway, being able to pacify your baby by just caressing her hand. You breathe in again, albeit more shakily, closing your eyes momentarily.

How can a small thing such as her cause you so much pain?


End file.
